Late Night Musings
by Rachel2008
Summary: Cristina muses about her life and a certain someone.


Title: Late night musings

Author: Rachel2008

Disclaimers: They aren't mine, no copyright infringement is intended, blah blah blah.

Spoilers: None, really.

Summary: Cristina muses about her life.

Rating: T, just to be safe.

Feedback: Like it, don't like it, just let me know.

Special thanks: Mercury Gray was a very generous beta-reader, I couldn't have done it without her. She's also a great writer, so go read her stories.

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She had told Meredith that she wanted a man. A real man.

It was true, she really did. She wasn't a woman who was into boys, even the pretty ones. She hadn't been into boys since sophomore year at high school and that had been a long time ago. But the problem with getting a man instead of a boy is that you deal with a man and a real man has issues, and some men have more real issues than others.

She was not ready.

She was not ready for her own issues, never mind someone else's. And she definetely wasn't ready for the kind of issues this man had.

But if she wasn't ready for this man, what, one could ask, what was he doing in her bed, naked, sleeping deeply, lying on his front, his face buried in a pillow, one arm over her ribcage?

Well, that was a good question. She wanted to feel. He needed to feel. Her day had been awful. He wanted her. She liked that he wanted her. He was a hell of a kisser. It had been ages since someone had said she was beautiful and she had believed it. He had shown at her building's front steps a second time, but there was no hesitation, much less pain and he didn't say anything. Neither did she when he just grabbed her hand and took her upstairs.

The answer was all that and more.

She didn't know what 'more'.

She didn't want to know.

She already knew.

She just didn't want to think about it. Because if she tried to analyze that, then she would have to acknowledge things she wasn't prone to accepting.

She traced the thin hairs on his lower arm with the tips of her fingers. Red hair, she thought, amused. She had never had a redhead. She had had more than a fair share of lovers. Asians, blacks, blonds, dark haired. Never a redhead. If she believed this kind of crap she would think it was a sign, a divine intervention on her love life.

She didn't.

As she looked at his back, she marveled at the amount of freckles covering his skin. It was fascinating how some people could have so many of these. She didn't have any and she was secretly jealous. Meredith had a fair amount of them, as well as George. Even Evil Spawn had some. Medically speaking, though, they were not that great. Fair skin, melanin, too much sun, not enough protection, do the math.

They were all going to get skin cancer. She wasn't. At least, not skin cancer. Maybe a heart attack? That would suit her better.

He grunted something in his sleep and moved just a little towards her. Most of his head was still buried in the pillow, but now she could see part of his scruffy face.

She smiled.

She hated herself for smiling.

She didn't do fluffy. She didn't do mushy. She didn't... she didn't know what else she did or did not do. For a long time she had been living in limbo. Wake up, work, work, more work, even more work, sleep, wake up again, work, work, work, sleep, work. She couldn't remember the last time she had been to the movies. Read a book that didn't have a detailed picture of body parts. Run like she used to run, just for the pleasure of running and not because she needed to dissipate the rage inside her.

It had never been a problem before. Her life was her work. It was part of who she was. It was the only thing that still made sense on bad days. 'Know thyself', the best Greek aphorism. She knew who she was. She had no illusions about herself. The last cookie left in the jar belonged to her. She was competitive. Career driven. She wanted to do the best. She wanted to be the best. Always. It was what she needed.

Not anymore.

There was something that ached inside her. It was a hole she had never noticed before. Maybe it had always been there and she had been too busy to notice or had pretended to be busy and just brushed it away. Maybe it had been carved, inch by inch, by the other man, the one who had left her, taking a piece of her with him.

She had cried over him. She had sobbed her eyes out until she thought there were no tears, but of course there were always more tears.

All things must pass. That had passed, too.

The man next to her was capable of laughing. They had laughed hysterically about some stupid joke told during the night. She couldn't remember exactly who said what, but that was irrelevant. What really mattered was the joy it had brought to her.

To him.

To them.

Them.

Oh.

Ready or not, she couldn't stop it, could she?

His arm tightened around her body at the same time a sleepy face raised from the bed and a pair of bright blue eyes looked at her. His voice was raspy.

"You're awake." His eyes were half open, crinkled at the corners, squinting up at her.

"So?" she asked, teasing him. He chuckled and tried to open his eyes more, stirring against her pillows.

"That line's mine," he pointed, still very much half-asleep.

"Was yours. In the before. You don't get to use it in the after," she remarked, still teasing, still waiting for him to challenge her back.

"Okay," he said with a little shrug, burying his face on her neck, relaxed as he could be.

"Okay? That's all the fight I get?" she was surprised and just a little annoyed.

He considered this. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Why?" she questioned, skeptical now, seriously wondering why he didn't want to fight her on this, something every other guy she had dated would done.

"I prefer the now," he said, staring up at her with complete sincerity in his eyes.

So did she. And she knew now that she couldn't stop it, whatever it was.

_Finis_


End file.
